It's 1 o'clock on a Friday morning,
|
I'm trying to keep my back from the wall.
|
The prophets and their pawns have had another success
|
And I'm wondering why we bother at all.
|
|
And I think of you on cold winter mornings, darling
|
They remind me of when we were in school,
|
Nothing really mattered when you called out my name
|
In fact nothing really mattered at all
|
|
And I think about how long it will take them to blow us away
|
But I won't get me down!
|
I'm just thankful to be facing the day.
|
Cause days don't get you far when you're gone.
|
|
It's 5 o' clock on a Friday morning
|
One hundred telephones shake and ring
|
One of those was someone who knew you
|
|
And I'll still think of you on cold winter mornings, darling
|
They'll still remind me of when we were in school
|
When they could never have persuaded me,
|
That lives like yours, were in the hands of these erroneous fools
|
|
And to those of you who mourn your lives through one day to the next
|
Well let them take you next!
|
Can't you live and be thankful you're here?
|
See - it could be you, tomorrow, next year.
|
|
-----------------
|
Trains To Brazil
|
| Guillemots |